


Reunion

by dracoqueen22



Series: The Prime's Consorts [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fade to Black Spark Merging, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29448366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Sideswipe thought he’d never see his brother again.
Relationships: Sideswipe/Sunstreaker
Series: The Prime's Consorts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044354
Comments: 36
Kudos: 155





	Reunion

Sideswipe doesn’t know what to think when a trio of Primal guards shows up on his doorstep and demands he come with them. He’s torn between refusing because of what Streamline might do to him, and sprinting along with them because of a stupid hope that their arrival means he gets to see Sunstreaker.  
  
He immediately dashes that internal hope when he considers that seeing Sunstreaker is probably part of some ploy to force his brother into good behavior.  
  
His excitement immediately cools.  
  
Sideswipe goes with them because he doesn’t see where he has any other choice.  
  
His escorts are not very chatty. They don’t answer his questions, but sit in a stony silence as the transport heads straight for the shining beacon of Iacon, and the glittering tower that overlooks it all -- the Prime Residence. Sideswipe’s spark sinks deeper and deeper into his abdomen.  
  
Sunstreaker is in that tower, enduring only Primus knows what, and Sideswipe is on his way to that very same tower, for a reason no one will give him.  
  
Sideswipe’s only comfort is that he’s not arriving in chains. There’s a surge of unconscious delight in his spark, one he can’t dampen, that keeps him riding the edge of calm. His every sensor is alight with his proximity to Sunstreaker. He dares hope he might get to hug his brother, share their fields, and if he’s really lucky, be allowed a shallow merge.  
  
The shuttle lands.  
  
They herd Sideswipe into the Prime Residence itself, lead him silently through the massive halls, passing too many doors to count, too many servants who bow and lower their gazes. He expects the atmosphere to reek of discomfort and simmering disgust.  
  
It doesn’t, and somehow, that’s the weirdest part.  
  
Sideswipe’s taken to a door. One of his guards presses a button, announces them in the same serious monotone as when he’d informed Sideswipe to come along, and the door slides open.  
  
They gesture him to go inside. There’s warning in their optics, though Sideswipe can’t imagine why, until he does as they ask, and he realizes.  
  
Slag.  
  
This is Optimus Prime’s office. And Optimus Prime is seated behind a large desk, the massive windows letting in streams of false sunlight while a larger mech stands beside him, pointing to a datapad in the Prime’s possession.  
  
The door shuts behind Sideswipe, leaving the guards on the other side.  
  
Optimus Prime looks at Sideswipe, and he smiles, and there’s such warmth in the smile, Sideswipe feels as if he’s stepped into an alternate dimension. Optimus Prime rises from behind the desk and circles it, extending a hand toward Sideswipe.  
  
“Hello, Sideswipe. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he says.  
  
Sideswipe takes the hand on automatic. “I think the pleasure’s supposed to be mine, sir,” he says, because it’s a lesson Sunstreaker never quite absorbed, that being polite from the start earns you more concession than slag.  
  
Optimus Prime chuckles and gestures to a chair. “Please. Sit.”  
  
“I’d prefer to stand if it’s all the same to you,” Sideswipe says, flashing his patented smile, trying to ignore the other, much larger mech. “Can I ask what I’m doing here?”  
  
Optimus Prime returns to his desk, briefly patting the other mech on the shoulder before he sits. “I made a promise to your brother, and with Ultra Magnus’ help, I was finally able to fulfill it.”  
  
“I think Prowl might have contributed a task or two,” says the mech whom Sideswipe can only assume is Ultra Magnus in a dry tone.  
  
“It was a group effort,” Optimus Prime says, chuckling. It’s so surreal Sideswipe wonders if he’s still in recharge, and this is all some by-product of tainted energon.  
  
He stares at both of them.  
  
Ultra Magnus coughs into his hand and gives the Prime a pointed look. If Sideswipe didn’t know any better, he’d think it is chastisement, but this is the Prime here. And whoever Ultra Magnus is, no way he’s got authority over the Prime.  
  
Optimus Prime looks at Sideswipe directly, and it’s not comfortable to have the full force of that look. He says, “I know you have little reason to trust anyone in a position of authority, but nevertheless, I wish to reassure you that this isn’t a trap. It’s my hope that meeting you like this might reassure you of my intentions.”  
  
Sideswipe’s mouth opens and shuts, his arms folding as he ruminates on the Prime’s words. He has to admit, they’re pretty much the perfect thing someone should say in this situation if they’re trying to gain Sideswipe’s trust. But that’s the thing about politicians, isn’t it? They always know the right thing to say. Especially if they’ve managed to wheedle or force the necessary insight out of another party.  
  
Like, for example, Sunstreaker who has been in the clutches of Optimus Prime for too long already.  
  
“Your intentions,” Sideswipe echoes.  
  
“Yes,” Optimus Prime says, and he audibly cycles a ventilation. Most mechs might think this is the perfect time for a reassuring smile, but the Prime apparently doesn’t. He gives Sideswipe a serious look, his tone shaping into that of a vow, “My sole purpose in bringing you here is so I can ensure your and your brother’s happiness.”  
  
Sideswipe cycles his optics. “... What?” He thinks about resetting his audials, because the words don’t jive with what he’s used to hearing from mechs in the Prime’s position.  
  
Then again, he also knows the value of pretty words. They’re what got him and Sunstreaker into debt with Streamline in the first place. Kind words promising energon and safety and a home, and instead, it turns into a contract they can’t get out of.  
  
Sideswipe knows how to play this game, too.  
  
“I am aware of the circumstances behind Sunstreaker’s nomination, and I don’t approve of them. No mech should be held hostage for love of his family,” Optimus Prime says, and there’s something in his tone that’s almost… angry? On their behalf? Which if it’s feigned, mech’s doing a damn good job of it. “I want to reunite you with Sunstreaker because you two should be together and for no other reason.”  
  
For no other reason? Without any attached strings? Sideswipe doesn’t believe it for a second. The strings come later, in little favors and asks and wheedles. See how generous the Prime is? So generous now, so when he needs something later, he can remind them of his _kindness_.  
  
It’s easy enough to hand a leash from one owner to another, isn’t it?  
  
Sideswipe’s armor crawls.  
  
He smiles anyway, because that’s what he knows best to do. He smiles, and he says, “I thought I’d never get to see Sunstreaker again, honestly. Thank you, sir,” Sideswipe says, because when one stands in front of the singularly most powerful mech on the planet, they mind their glossa. “How long do we have?”  
  
“How long?” Optimus Prime echoes, and he actually looks confused for a moment before he shakes his head. “There’s no restriction. You can stay here if you’d like, or if you’d prefer, you can find alternate accommodation.”  
  
“There is the matter of your safety,” rumbles Ultra Magnus, who’s been doing his best to be a silent statue up until now, his attention grabbed by a datapad. “We can protect you better if you live here with your brother.”  
  
Right. Because Sunny can’t leave. Because he belongs to the Prime now. And apparently, Optimus Prime can’t manage without a matched set.  
  
Hold on.  
  
Sideswipe replays Optimus Prime’s words with Ultra Magnus’ additions. It takes that long for the full meaning of their offer to filter through his suspicion.  
  
Sideswipe tries not to gape and knows he’s failed. “Wait. You’re giving me the choice? I can live here with Sunstreaker if I want to?”  
  
“Yes, I am,” Optimus Prime says and there it is, a small smile that tries to be reassuring. “Would you like to see him?”  
  
Sideswipe barely resists squinting at him. Is that a real question or is he already starting with the mind-frag games? “If it’s not too much trouble,” he says instead. Streamline wouldn’t have been fooled, but Optimus Prime and his large lackey haven’t learned yet.  
  
“I’ve already called him, Optimus. He should be here any second now,” Ultra Magnus says.  
  
Optimus Prime gives him a look Sideswipe can’t interpret, but it doesn’t faze the mech. “Thank you.”  
  
“Of course.” Ultra Magnus pauses as a low, cheerful chime rings through the room. “That will be him now, as a matter of fact.”  
  
Sideswipe tingles all over, his spark one massive throb in his chassis. He turns as the door whooshes open, and it’s like onlining for the first time all over again, Sunstreaker walking inside looking beautiful and healthy and whole. He carries his head high, not a trace of slump to his shoulders, and that more than anything, shocks Sideswipe into silence.  
  
Or maybe it’s the fact Sunstreaker spots him just as quickly, changes direction from greeting the Prime to stride across the floor and sweep Sideswipe into a strut-crushing hug. Affection? From Sunstreaker? In front of other people?  
  
Sideswipe hugs him back, equally fierce. “Missed you, too,” he murmurs as his spark throbs a frantic beat of love-need-relief.  
  
“Shut up,” Sunstreaker hisses, squeezing until his armor creaks, only to pull back and take Sideswipe’s hand in a crushing grip. “We’re going to talk later,” he tells Optimus Prime in a voice that sounds too much like chastisement for Sideswipe’s comfort, before he starts tugging Sideswipe out of the room.  
  
“Take all the time you need,” is Optimus Prime’s diplomatic response, tinged with amusement, before the door shuts on them.  
  
“Did you just yell at the Prime?” Sideswipe asks, dazed. His head spins. Too much is happening too fast especially when all he can focus on is the nearness of Sunstreaker’s spark, and how much his chassis jutters to open.  
  
“He deserved it,” Sunstreaker says, tugging Sideswipe to the next door over, keying it open, revealing a plush sitting room larger than their entire apartment back in Tarn.  
  
“Deserved it… Sunny, he’s the Prime!” Sideswipe splutters, aghast at his twin’s nonchalance, though he should have expected it. Sunstreaker never has been one for respecting authority.  
  
Sunstreaker squeezes his hand and whirls on Sideswipe, pulling him into another embrace. “I’ll explain later,” he says, one hand cupping the back of Sideswipe’s neck as he presses their foreheads together. “Promise.”  
  
Their chassis collide, and Sunstreaker’s twitching chestplate rasps against Sideswipe’s own.  
  
 _Oh._  
  
“Yeah, okay, sure,” Sideswipe says, processor twirling. “Later.” He curves an arm around his brother’s waist, keeping them close, in-venting the familiar scent of Sunstreaker’s stupid-expensive wax, and soaking in the weight of his twin’s field. “Primus, I missed you.”  
  
He stops holding back, and his chestplates spring open, the glow of his spark briefly reflected on Sunstreaker’s armor before he opens as well, and the pull of his spark is impossible to resist.  
  
Explanations can come later. Right now, Sideswipe has his twin in his arms, and that is all that matters.  
  


***


End file.
